


Not Quite Owned, Not Quite Free

by LovelyPlantPrincess



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Biting, Blood Kink, Claim Sex, F/M, Hickeys, Loud Sex, Marking, Pain Kink, Rough Sex, Scratching, Smut, Suspicion of Adultery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyPlantPrincess/pseuds/LovelyPlantPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliott comes home smelling like another woman. Gemma establishes her place, and puts the bitch in hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Owned, Not Quite Free

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know why I love the idea of Gemma/Elliott (and Gemma/Darby, but that’s a different story) but I do. I like the idea of Gemma being with a guy that’s not in life, that treats her gently, and can still give her the life of luxury that she wants. So idk - Elliott fits the script. AND this has been sitting in my to do list for like three months. So I decided to go ahead and finish it. Although I don't think I'm going to be doing a lot of Gemma/Elliott.

Gemma looks up from her spot on the couch as the wooden front door swings open and Elliott steps into the house. Immediately her expression brightens entirely - she hadn’t seen him all day, she was elated that he was finally home. Although he looks worn after a long day at the construction company, so she’s glad that dinner is already cooked and is waiting for him on the stove.

When she and Elliott first got serious, she didn’t think she’d be able to settle into the simple housewife duties. Of course, with John she was a housewife too, but she had Clubhouse and Teller-Morrow responsibilities as well. She was constantly moving - there was never _nothing to do_ , especially with an outlaw motorcycle club at her heels. When she married Elliott, she realized that she’d be giving that fast-paced lifestyle up. Especially for Jax - it’d be taking him away from a life that he was already accustomed to. She already knew the courts would automatically give her full custody without visitation - they disliked the Sons of Anarchy from the moment they set foot in Charming.

But she’s been finding herself fitting into the new way of life alright enough. It certainly wasn’t _easy_. She wakes early, makes breakfast for everyone - that is, if Elliott’s at home - and takes Jax to school. Afterwards, she comes home to clean, she goes grocery shopping, or she gardens. If she runs out of things to do before her son gets home, she’ll read, knit or work on Elliott’s public representation for the election - considering that by marrying him, she took on the job of PR agent. When Jax gets home, she starts dinner while he does his homework, and by the time she finishes dinner, Elliott’s usually just getting in the door. On weekends, she takes Jax to baseball practice or his games.

It works out well enough, she fits into a routine.

“Hey baby,” she calls, bookmarking her book and pushing off the couch. “How was work?”

“I wasn’t at work today,” he sighs, running a hand over his face. “I was working on mayoral election speeches with my PR agent.”

“ _I’m_ your PR agent,” she reminds, curiosity marring her features. Elliott shrugs, lifts a lid on one of the pots on the stove. He sniffs the food there before taking a spoon from the drawer and shoveling some into his mouth.

“Not _officially_. You’re… behind the scenes, if I may - you do the stuff others aren’t equipped to do, and you know the stuff others aren’t equipped to know. I have an actual _hired_ agent,” he says around a mouthful of pasta. “Y’know. ‘Cause my PR agent being the ex-wife of a biker is bad - like _really_ bad. It’s nothing personal, baby, it’s just-” 

“Oh, no, I get it - politics are a bunch of dirty cunts,” the ex-old lady sighs. She knew that by marrying her, Elliott had given the opposition something to put under the microscope. If he associated with the likes of _her_ , what kind of morals could he _possibly_ have? Women like Gemma - biker whores - _did not_ make for suitable Mayor’s wives. But she knows Elliott loves her, and once all this shit is over - whether he wins or not - things can go back to normal between them. They’d just much rather he won.

She wraps her arms around his neck and leans in to give him their first kiss of the day, but her nose catches a traitorous scent lingering on him - or rather, on his _collar_. A women’s perfume, and nothing that _she_ uses either. Gemma’s perfumes are all heavy - almost like colognes. She’d been around men so long with the MC, she’d gotten accustomed to that smell in her perfumes. This is dainty, sweet - smells more like a body spritz than a perfume. Whoever wore this was someone who was a proper, prim lady. She recoils at the scent, and Elliott frowns when he doesn’t receive the kiss he was eagerly expecting.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, examining the scowl on her lips and the fury in her eyes. “What’d I do?”

“Whose perfume is that?” she spits, her warm tone faded into a cold and angered one. Now it’s Elliott’s turn to recoil - he visibly flinches at her tone. His hands resting on her waist, he holds her at arm’s length and stares at her with a confused expression. “Don’t give me that look - _goddamnit_ , Elliott! I don’t need this shit, not from you! Not from-”

Her voice chokes up and he can tell she’s going to cry - and if she’s going to cry, she’ll refuse to do it in front of him. Gemma attempts to pull away from him, but Elliott pulls her back to his chest - despite the struggle it is to do so. She beats her fists - which are surprisingly strong - against his chest and pushes at his arms, but he’s stronger than her and he holds her in place.

“Whoa, whoa, _stop_ it! My PR agent’s name is Carissa McCarthy - I didn’t notice, but maybe she was wearing a perfume? I’m sorry, I’ll tell her to let up on it.”

“It’s on your fucking collar!” Gemma growls, tears uncontrollably spilling from her eyes. “What fucking business does she have fucking hugging you? Answer that, you bastard! Or putting her fucking wrists or neck anywhere near your goddamn collar?”

Sighing reluctantly, Elliott blinks tiredly - wanting nothing more than to just put this behind and go to bed. He hadn’t wanted to tell Gemma about Carissa’s crush on him, because he knew she would react poorly - his wife was extremely jealous, and he didn’t want to give her any reason not to trust him. In her last marriage, her husband had a whole new life across the ocean - she had every right to be a little jealous in this one, he had to admit. But he really did wish she’d trust him a little bit more, and that’s why he kept Carissa’s crush from her.

“Carissa likes me a bit. She’s a tad… _friendly_. I told her I was married but she’s persistent. It’s nothing I can’t handle, Gemma. I’m not going to betray you, baby - I love you and _only_ you. Else I wouldn’t have married you,” he assures, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. His arms encircle her waist and her hands eventually flatten against his chest, her muscles going lax. Elliott breathes a sigh of relief.

“Fine,” she says, her tone still harsh, before burying her nails into the scruff of his hair and pulling him down for a rough kiss. It’s nothing like their usual kisses - it’s messy with nothing but teeth, and it takes him by surprise. The kiss bruises, and Gemma pushes him against the counter opposing the stove as they sloppily make out like horny teenagers. Elliott suddenly doesn’t feel so tired - he eagerly allows her to take the lead, as it seems like that’s what she wants to do.

Gemma pulls away from the kiss breathing hard with lips bruised, and Elliott knows he sports a similar picture. Her hands go to the hem of her shirt and she pulls the cloth over her head, revealing the lacy hot pink material beneath. Both of his eyebrows shoot to his hairline, but his wife just gives a smug grin as she discards the cloth to the kitchen floor and returns to kissing him.

“Wait,” he says, breaking away. He’s breathing hard when he speaks. “What’re you doing?”

“Making sure that bitch knows to back down,” she retorts, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m gonna mark you up - let the bitch know that you’re not free dick.”

Sometimes Elliott forgets that she wasn’t always the _mostly_ quiet housewife he had married. She once ran with an outlaw biker gang, and she once fought in brawls and she once shot actual guns and was once a real bad girl. Sometimes he didn’t forget - she made it hard to when she got dressed, since she never stopped wearing her black leather and lace - and he got aroused thinking about it. Now was one of those times.

“Okay - what about Jackson?”

“What about him?” she asks, her tone exasperated.

“Won’t he… hear? Or… y’know… walk in?” Elliott asks nervously. He still was awkward around the younger man - the last thing he needed was for the kid to walk in and see him and his mother having sex. It would just make things even more embarrassing - for all parties involved. But Gemma rolls her eyes, switches them so that _her_ back is against the counter and begins working out of her tight black jeans.

“Jax has seen things most fifteen year olds _really_ shouldn’t have to see,” she admits, kicking her jeans aside. Elliott is temporarily distracted by the matching hot pink panties, but then his eyes find hers again. “Walking in on his mom screwing his step-dad would be a walk in the park - he’s desensitized to it. Besides, I’m _loud_. Once he starts hearing me, he’ll know to just stay in his room. Now get over here and _shut the fuck up._ ”

Elliott obeys, allowing his wife to pull him over by his tie. She tugs the tie off and tosses it to the kitchen floor with her blouse, sending his suit jacket and button-up following. He crashes his mouth back onto hers and hoists her onto the counter by her waist before planting his hands firmly on either side of her thighs. Gemma tears her mouth away from his and slides it down his neck - wetly suckling on the pale flesh there. Meanwhile, her hands work at his belt buckle - she gives a triumphant snort when the belt joins the rest of their clothes on the kitchen tiles. Eventually her nimble fingers slide his zipper down and push his pants open enough to get to his boxers.

“Foreplay or no?” she whispers sultrily in his ear before suckling on his earlobe. One of her hands palm his thick shaft through his boxers, and her other hand has slipped into her panties - touching herself. Elliott bites his lip at the sight - can feel himself stiffen considerably, paired with her touch. Now that she’s got him all riled up, he’s excited to just get to the best part of it.

“Nah - let’s skip the foreplay and get to the fun,” he whispers back. Gemma’s eyes twinkle as she scoots closer to the edge of the counter and pulls him out of his boxers. Her hands stroke his member gently before she slides her panties down to her ankles and guides him towards her entrance. Elliott’s grips her hips and pulls her closer to him, and she winces when he begins to slide in.

Eventually, he’s down to the hilt, and his nails are digging into her flesh - so much so, that he can feel a few drops of blood slowly wet his fingertips. But he isn’t the only one leaving marks - Gemma has already set to her mission. Her teeth scrape along the flesh on his neck, occasionally stopping to nip or bite. He can feel the bruises beginning to form there - knows she’s picking spots that will peek out of all his collars. He smirks at her childish antics.

Elliott begins thrusting - his hips snapping back and forth rather forcefully. It wasn’t often that he and Gemma had rough sex - mostly because he didn’t like the idea of hurting her. So he tries to make it as good for her as possible - taking one bloodsoaked hand and burying it into the locks of her hair. He tugs at her hair - at first gently to test the waters, and then when she seems to enjoy that, harder. More _painful_.

He knows, because in responses her teeth sink into his shoulder and her nails drag down his shoulder blades. He groans at the sting of pain, and is surprised when it adds to his arousal. The burning in his shoulders only makes him hornier, and he thrusts harder and faster into his wife. What had been originally muffled quiet whimpers become loud moans of pleasure, and Gemma involuntarily tosses her head back.

“ _Fuck…_ right there… like that, daddy…” she pants, bucking her hips to meet his. Elliott yanks her hair again and the noises coming out her mouth become pornographic - her initial mission long forgotten, although he knows he’s been marked up pretty good. Her nails dig into his shoulder and like he had done to her, begin to draw blood eventually. Instead of being repulsed by it however, Gemma licks the blood from her fingers tantalizingly and Elliott grunts at the sight.

“Goddamnit…” he grunts, feeling his climax slowly starting to building. Gemma returns to her task of marking him up - biting down from right below his chin to the spot above his Adam’s apple. After each nip, she swirls her tongue over the mark. Elliott doesn’t need to tell her how good it feels - he responds by picking up his pace and force, and arching his hips upward. Apparently he hits a particular spot when he arches upward, because she tears her mouth away from him with a loud cry of pleasure - loud enough to wake the neighborhood.

“Fuck!” Gemma pants afterward, running a hand through her now sweaty hair. “Do… do that again.”

Elliott does as told - thrusting forcefully and arching upward at the same time. He must hit that spot again, because Gemma’s eyes roll back in her head and she brings her bottom lip between her teeth. Smirking to himself, Elliott attempts to hit this spot with each thrust - and it doesn’t take long to have his wife shuddering with her first orgasm.

Her nails scrape down his back, her eyes roll back in her head, and her mouth opens in a loud moan of his name. Elliott briefly slows down at the sight, taking it in. She looks so damn sexy right there, and he wishes he could reach his phone to snap a photo. Instead he goes about remembering every detail of the image as he fucks her slowly through her orgasm.

When Gemma comes down, she’s breathing hard and grinning like a cheshire cat who got the cream. Elliott stops briefly, tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and tilts his head in question.

“That was fucking _amazing_ ,” she whispers. “Now come on baby boy - your turn.”

She leans in to kiss him and he kisses her hard - his hand coming up to cup the side of her head as he does. Her sweaty strands of hair rest against his fingers as he thrusts his way to climax. It’s not far away from hers - it just takes a little extra help from his wife. Gemma reaches between them and massages his balls - that sounds so lewd to his ears, and he knows he’ll never be able to say it aloud - to help him reach orgasm. Not once does their kiss break as she does, and he comes buried to the hilt inside of his wife - without a condom, mind, but that’d be a problem for another day.

He groans into her mouth, and she swallows the sound with her mouth. _Her_ being loud was fine - it was expected of the biker slut, she could take the rude stares she got the day after. If any of his neighbors heard _him_ being loud? It could potentially ruin his election. The idea of Elliott Oswald being married to Gemma was bad enough. The idea of them _having sex_? The citizens of Charming couldn’t bear to think about it. It was best they thought she was just getting herself off with toys or her fingers. God forbid they thought she washaving sex with her _husband_. Sometimes Gemma couldn’t believe the facade of purity in her town.

Elliott breaks the kiss panting, and he slumps tiredly against her after pulling out. He leaves a trail of sticky in his wake, and Gemma is sure to kick up a fuss about it.

“I’m not on the pill, El,” she whines, running her fingers gently through his hair. “What if-”

“We’re a married couple with a steady source of income living in a three story house in the upper echelon of Charming,” he murmurs tiredly. “If you get knocked up, I don’t think it’d be _too much_ of a problem. In fact, it’d be the _least_ of our problems.”

“Mm, and what would be our biggest?” she hums, kicking her feet lazily over the edge of the counter.

Elliott looks up at her tiredly with a lazy smirk. “How to explain to the citizens of Charming how our celibate marriage produced a kid.”

Gemma burst out into a fit of giggles, and Elliott chuckles along with her. It’s not until their laughter subsides that she inspects his skin. Already purpling marks line his neck and there are even some along the edge of his chin. His back is marked with scratches - deep ones, that have formed welts that she winces at - and his shoulders are still bleeding a bit. For the most part, he’s been marked pretty good. His PR agent should definitely get the message.

“I think I did a good job,” she whispers, tracing a bruise at the hollow of his throat. Elliott watches her expression - how she looks like a mesmerized child, as she traces each hickey with the very tip of her nail. “Think the bitch will know to back off now?”

“She’d be a psycho not to. What if I have to do a surprise press conference tomorrow?” he asks, finally pulling away from her. He bends down and picks up his jacket, shirt, tie and belt from the floor. He gathers her shirt and jeans too, and Gemma jumps from the counter to pull up her panties. She shrugs in response.

“Tell them it was your mistress,” she whispers sultrily. “They’d just love that.”

Gemma winks at him before sauntering away - her hips swaying with each step she takes, the curve of her ass perfect in those hot pink panties of hers making his mouth water, almost foam. He watches her walk away for a few minutes before shaking his head.

 _This woman will be the death of me_ , he thinks in exhaustion before following the temptation of danger eagerly.

**Author's Note:**

> So Gemma is a screamer, Elliott is a god in bed, and idk. Let me feed my little dark fantasy, okay? But whatever. I like this, and I'm glad I was able to cross it off my to-do list tonight.


End file.
